


Not Defected

by anonniemoose



Series: SPN OneShots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Supernatural - Freeform, because love, brief death of reader, tattoo soulmate!AU, true love for the smol prophet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonniemoose/pseuds/anonniemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck had given up. Sometimes there was a flaw in the system, a tattoo was formed without a match. And here he was, twenty-two years later, having visions about two random men, and no sign of his soul mate. Maybe he was a defect. Perhaps he was meant to be alone for life.</p><p>But then he ran into you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not A Defect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nil.
> 
> Prompt: Chuck had given up. Sometimes there was a flaw in the system, a tattoo was formed without a match. And here he was, twenty-two years later, having visions about two random men, and no sign of his soul mate. Maybe he was a defect. Perhaps he was meant to be alone for life.
> 
> But then he ran into you.
> 
> Word Count: 705 words.

When you were born, your skin was clear. Between the ages of twelve and fifteen, you received your Mark, your tattoo. Somewhere in the world, there was someone else, sometimes multiple someones, would have the same, or a continuation of the Mark.

Chuck sighs as he looks down at his wrist, the ending of what seems to be a heartbeat. Rubbing, he exists the doctor’s office, the fifth one this year.

The moment Chuck accepted that he was, what is commonly referred to as, a defect he started having...strange dreams. Which only became stranger still once his dreams became _true,_ people missing, others found murdered. Chuck would see it all in graphic detail, and it was always followed by two men, Sam and Dean, solving whatever killed the victim. Unfortunately, as amazing as it was to see the two in action, it always left him with a killer headache.

So, he saw doctor after doctor, trying to find a way to budge the pain. Each prescribed mild painkillers and rest. Each brushed him off and left him with no help.

He moves out onto the street, eyes now glued to his Mark. Black, obvious, and alone. His father told him about the Defects, people who still got a mark but didn’t have a soul-mate. Some would freeze at seventeen until their soul-mate had received their mark, others would live until well into their nineties before dying alone and of old age. It was rare, but it happened.

What if he was a Defect? What if he died alone? When he received his Mark, it was a year late. His family weren’t concerned, people without a Mark usually didn’t desire a relationship, sexual or otherwise. But now, nearly eleven years later, at twenty-eight years of age, people had given up on him ever finding his soul-mate. Most people found their one true love five years after their tattoo formed at most.

He squeezes down on his Mark, as if it would remove it suddenly.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t looking where he was going as he ran into the next person turning the corner.

“Mum, even if I was a Defect, I don’t see how this is a problem to y-Omph.” You fall to the ground, papers flying everywhere, phone skidding to the other side of the road.  


“Oh my G-! I’m so sorry!” Chuck kneels down to help pick up for report papers.  


“No, no, no, it’s okay, I should ha-” You halt, in shock.  


You stand, staring at his arm as he stumbles over his apologies over and over. Moving to stand next to him, you place your arm against his, the tattoo that had been haunting you for years now finally full.

You catch his gaze and flicker down to the Mark, joy filling the both of you.

“Y/N.”  


“Chuck.”

**Epilogue:**

You had moved in with Chuck weeks after meeting him. The relationship was still young, but this was a common practice for all older soul-mates.

Now, nearly ten years later, here you were, still going strong, happily married to Chuck and you were working full time from home.

Chuck had taken up your advice and decided to write everything down, making them into novels. Unfortunately, this led to some rather nasty habits of forgetting to eat, shower, sleep, all the basic necessities in life. You made sure he ate, took his zomig whenever his visions got to be too much and got some sleep, and it was all worth it in the end.

There, bound and already being shipped to stores all over the world, ready for its release date tomorrow. _Supernatural_  by Carver Edlund.

“I’m proud of you, ya know.” You smile as you hug him from behind. “Finally got published. And-” You kiss his cheek quickly, “we are getting everything back on track.” His hand moves to rub up and down your arm.  


“Thank you Y/N, I couldn’t have finished them without you.” You smile.  


“I know, I’m fantastic.” You grab his hand and lead him towards the stairs. “I don’t know about you, but I would _love_  to celebrate your success.” He grins as he pulls you in for a brief kiss.  


“I love the way you think.”  



	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nil.
> 
> Prompt: As you lie there, resting on his chest as he runs his finger tips over your Mark, a question that had been bothering him for many years finally coming out. “Why did our Mark change?”
> 
> Word Count: 1, 095 words.

As you lie there, resting on his chest as he runs his finger tips over your Mark, a question that had been bothering him for many years finally coming out.  


“Why did our Mark change?” You still, blinking before biting your lip. “Y/N?”  


“There was...an incident when I was younger.” You begin, clearing your throat before you begin.  


* * *

**Your Flashback, Age 13**

* * *

You were hooked up onto the machine, as you normally were these days. You knew you were dying. Your family and doctors didn’t say it in front of you, but you knew it. The chemo had fried too much of your body and your family couldn’t dig up funds for all the transplants you needed.

You sigh as you snuggle back down, eyes glued to your book. You didn’t know what you were going to do, do you apologise to your parents, forgive your doctors? What about your Marked? Do you write an apology to them?

You’ve been avoiding the sight of your wrist ever since you read your Doctor’s notes. The full wrist, almost bracelet-like, design had been haunting you ever since you turned thirteen. You, in the end, wrapped it up in bandages, the guilt weighing heavy in your stomach. Your Marked was going to grow up believing they were a Defect and eventually be shunned from society. And it was all your fault.

Your chest hurt, which was nothing new. You rub abstinent mindedly as you turn the page, your mother moving to sit next to you.

“Hello baby.”  


“Hey Mum.” You grin as she returns a watery smile. “You okay?”  


“Of course baby, just waiting until we can take you home.”  


You don’t say anything, you know she’ll just deny the truth. You put your book down and reach out for her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”  


“For all the money this is costing.” She laughs lightly.  


“Y/N, baby, it’s okay. It’s all worth it in the end, I promise. You should probably get some rest, though, you ne-”  


You remember the searing pain running throughout your body, your heart trying it’s best to burst out of its cage, your mother calling out for the nurse and then...nothing.

* * *

****

Now

* * *

“They brought me back in the end, I was dead ten minutes.” You explain quietly as you trace patterns on his arm. “When they brought me to, the Mark had changed to match half of what my heartbeat originally was when I came to.” You sigh, snuggling in closer. “Mum thought I was a Defect, most people’s Mark never change and she isn’t one for fairy tales.” Silence rings between you two once more. “Why do you ask?” He takes in a deep breath before beginning.

“Well...”  


* * *

**Chuck’s Flashback, Age 15**

* * *

Chuck hated English. Actually, no, he hated his English teacher. Nit-picky, old-fashioned and seemed to have it out for anyone who had received their Mark, and Chuck, like majority of his classmates, received their Marks some time prior.

Unlike the others, however, Chuck knew something was wrong. His Mark was always twinging in pain, and today it was the worst it have ever been.

His mother told him of specific soul-mates, those who were joined in every possible way. They could feel each other’s basic emotions once they met, and could feel when they died, even if it was prior to their death.

His father, now off with his actual Marked, told him it was a bunch of crap and he was just over-reacting, but his mother made sure he believed that what he was feeling was something important, something not to be ignored.

So, he went on, his Marked always present in his mind. What were they feeling? Why were they in so much pain? Was something wrong?

But today, in English class of all places, was to be the scariest moment of his entire life.

Suddenly, his heart began to speed up and feel like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest, his wrist searing in agonising pain as he falls from his chair to his knees, screaming as his brain goes into overdrive.

_What’s wrong with my Marked, are they okay, are they dying, what’s happening, what’s happening, what’s happe-_

Suddenly, it stopped and he was numb. All the other children have deserted the room and his English teacher was next to him, holding his Marked arm.

It was blank.

His heart stuttered to a stop and shattered. “No.” He whispers. “No, no, no, no!” His voice gets louder as he snatches his arm away and holds it tightly.

“Let’s get you to sickbay.” The head nurse states from behind him.  


“They’re gone, they’re dead.” He repeats over and over as he is slowly escorted past his classmates, all silent and looking at him, torn between shared grief and pity.  


As soon as he’s settled in sickbay, his mother is called. Chuck just sits there, staring at his now bare arm.

The nurse comes inside and sits next to him. “Your mother is twenty minutes away, will you be okay by yourself?” He nods mutely as she turns to leave. “It’ll all work out, Mr. Shurley, you’ll see.”

Moments past, his gaze never leaving his wrist, anxiety slowly filling him. 

_Maybe they’re fine, maybe they are having surgery, that happens, right? Remember Mum’s show where the guy lost his Mark for an hour because his Marked had brain surgery? Yeah, maybe it’s like that._

He winces as his chest tightens, pain blossoming. Then, he screams once more, pain blossoming all through his body, focusing in his wrist as black lines begin to form.

The nurse dashes in, trying to get him back onto the bed as he, once again, lays on the floor screaming in pain, calling for help from any passer-byers.

Just as suddenly as it came, the pain left, leaving his wrist almost pulsating as he moves away from the nurse.

“It’s back.” His voice is in almost disbelief, his face screwing up in joy. “It’s back, it’s back!”

* * *

**Now**

* * *

“Everyone thought that I had enough that day, so Mum took me home. But I was just overjoyed I had a chance at finding you again.” He finishes up as guilt hits you, sinking your stomach to the floor. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t feel like that, you couldn’t control what happened.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, I’m so sorry.” You mutter as he kisses your forehead gently.  


“Its was all worth it for you, I promise. I love you.”  


“I love you too.”


End file.
